


Blood Is Thicker Than Water

by BluePropinquity



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Counterculture, Daddy Issues, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, M/M, Other, Teacher/Student Relationships, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-04 12:21:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluePropinquity/pseuds/BluePropinquity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Egbert household is always empty. /Discontinued</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Is Thicker Than Water

“Mr. Egbert, your son is probably the _worst_ student to ever walk through my door. He blows off all the reading assignments, constantly passes notes in class, _sleeps_ in class, insults the coursework, hands in pathetic, rambling excuses for essays that half the time hardly even _touch_ on the assigned novel in favor of critiquing its _cinematic rendition_ , _and_ —“ Mr. Vantas’ increasingly furious criticism cut off into a trembling pause, “—and he even has the _audacity_ to play outrageously inappropriate practical jokes on me, _which_ I am perfectly in my rights to have him _expelled_ for. At this point I find myself forced to involve you, because my every other effort at reforming him so far has failed as miserably as his current semester grade.”

He gave a last huff and crossed his arms, the room silent as his dark eyes bore into the infuriating, rebellious, unmotivated, undisciplined, unintelligent, ungrateful little shit sitting across from him. He was well-known for being contemptuous toward all of his students, but _this_ one—this one especially took the crown of idiocy, the throne of petulant, uncultured, attention-deficit royalty. Literally every behaviorist's worst nightmare. “Sitting” may have even been too graceful of a description; his student was slumped low in one of the room’s two leather chairs, so low that his chin was nearly level with his hips and his knees stuck out awkwardly, staring back with as much venom as he could muster while his face was flushed red with anger, accusation, and shame.

His parental figure, meanwhile, maintained a much more dignified air as he sat in the other chair, legs crossed and clasped hands resting on his knees like a proper gentleman. Mr. Egbert’s signature fedora looked as dapper as ever over his tame waves of black hair, which his son had inherited but tended to neglect for a messy look that he probably thought was “edgy”, and in his gentle face only the family’s classic blue eyes betrayed his quiet shock.

In them, too, was such disappointment, paternal concern, and _self-blame_ that even Mr. Vantas’ vicious schadenfreude was curbed... because as much as he hated the boy, as much as he would love nothing more than to make the snarky, rebellious little fucker finally submit to his merciless will, he also deeply regretted having to disillusion such a good, honest man with the delinquency of his own son.

 

…What? Was that really surprising? Mr. Vantas wasn’t a bad person, you know. He gave everyone else a hard time because life had stuck him with hard times of his own. He could sympathize with people like this, people to whom fate had handed a live, venomous snake rather than the end of any stupid, metaphorical stick—and fate had been particularly unkind to Mr. Egbert. His history was well known; his wife died in childbirth, and his mother followed not a year later. The demand of his high position in the well-respected company Betty Crocker didn’t leave much time to spend with his son, whom he tried his hardest to raise properly but often found to be a resentful, saturnine brat. He tried to find the bright side of life, even when everything he loved had left him and there was no real reason to live anymore.

 

And Mr. Vantas had been there. No, wait—Karkat had been there, the angry, vulnerable teenager of years past.

 

“I apologize, Mr. Vantas…” The man’s heavy tone snapped him out of his recollections. “This is my fault. I haven’t been around to teach him how to act like a gentleman...” he trailed off, his gaze resting on his son. Somehow the boy managed to sink even lower in his seat. “I am so, so very sorry about the harassment you had to suffer through… I’ve been blissfully ignorant of my son’s behavior, but rest assured knowing that I will do my best to fix this situation. Now, John…” His son flinched. “Don’t you think it’s time to apologize?”

 

There was a long, tense moment. John slowly sat up.

 

“I…”

 

His blue eyes suddenly narrowed.

“No, I don’t.” And for good measure, he gave his teacher the middle finger.

 

"You smug little fuck--" The man snarled, leaping out of his chair to wring the kid's pale neck or--or--toss him down a flight of stairs, whichever would get him sued for less--but Mr. Egbert was already taking his own method of action, and Mr. Vantas (not being John's ultimate authority figure) had to stow away his sweet plans of revenge for another time. The composed fatherly figure turned slowly to face John, who remained stiffly upright in his seat to maintain what little power he had gained in the exchange, and fixed on him cool, all-knowing eyes. "...We're going to talk about this later," he said with a firm, scolding tone that even a king would not have dared to disobey.

Mr. Egbert then rose from his leather chair and gave Mr. Vantas a polite nod. "You can expect a full letter of apology at the beginning of the class period tomorrow. Thank you again for informing me of my son's unacceptable behavior." And with a sad, polite smile, he swept out the door. After a beat, John noticed his absense and quickly scrambled after him with a final dirty look in his teacher's direction, and Mr. Vantas didn't stop glowering back even after the door had slammed shut behind him.

 

* * *

 

The car ride back home was extremely painful. Both members were preoccupied with their own thoughts, but not far gone enough to be oblivious of the silence pressing heavily between them, and each had his own good reason to wait for the other to begin the conversation. The minutes passed slowly, and the muffled sounds of the tires along the road only magnified the auditory emptiness within the vehicle; neither individual took any more action than watching the familiar scenery pass by and dwelling on the unavoidable conversation thickening the air. It was quiet for so long, in fact, that John was beginning to hope that his father had wordlessly agreed to drop the subject entirely when--

 

"Son... why would you do something like that?" The adult finally asked, his voice weary and thoughtful. ...So much for hoping.

"Because I hate Mr. Vantas," John muttered back, gazing out the window sullenly with his arms crossed, hiding his clenched fists in the hollows of his underarms.

"But what did he ever do to you? I've heard that he's an excellent teacher."

"What bullshit! He's an awful teacher and everybody hates him!" The sixteen-year-old snapped. His father gave him a quick, stern glance of reproval for the language but ultimately said nothing. "He's especially hard on me, though, I don't know why! He gives me detention for breathing, he criticizes me in front of the entire class just to humiliate me, is completely prejudiced when he grades my essays and to top it off he has terrible taste in absolutely everything! I mean, why assign a bunch of stuff by Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë if he expects us to actually look at one of our assigned books, much less read any of them? It's torture! But I mean, that's still not the worst of it," he quickly added as the older man opened his mouth to speak. "It's the way he yells at everybody, even the other teachers, and insults everyone all the time JUST so he can cover up how horrible of a person he is himself! It makes me sick, I mean am I supposed to just watch?! No way, of course I'm gonna tell him off for it! And then he gives me detention and insults my very existence for like an hour and we're back to square one! How is this even  _fair?!"_

_  
_Mr. Egbert gave his son a good long while to catch his breath before slowly and cautiously speaking up. "So let me get this straight, John... Mr. Vantas deserved, for the reasons you just said, to have one of the most private and hurtful parts of his life displayed for all of his students as a joke?"

"I--uh..." the boy faltered and fell quiet as the truth of that statement hit him like a hurricane. When it was put _that_ way... did anybody deserve it? Seriously?

...But no, if anybody did then it was Mr. Vantas, and John had just been so  _angry_ at everything, and Dave had laughed with him when they saw his face, so shocked and  _furious_ \--no, it hadn't hurt Mr. Vantas, that much was obvious by the recent parent-teacher conference. It had only made him more determined to make John's life a living hell. "You know what, yeah, he did! He rips every one of his students open for everyone to see  _all the time_ , all the most 'private and hurtful parts' that we'd want to hear last of all from  _him_ out of anybody, and now he's had a taste of his  _own fucking medicine!"_

 _"Language,_ John!" Mr. Egbert took a deep, determined breath (though it sounded more like a huff) and watched the road with hard eyes. "No matter what Mr. Vantas is like, that is no way to treat a fellow human being. _Compassion_ is the true mark of maturity, son. It's what separates the boys from the men," John stiffened as his father's comment registered as an insult to his manhood, "and Mr. Vantas happens to be a very fine and respectable gentleman who had a rather troubled adolescence, and that is all. His teaching methods may be stricter than most," at this point the man had to raise his voice slightly to hush John's outburst of protesting, but again, it was very slight--he would  _never_ raise it to a yell. That would be truly undignified, and obstruct the process of clear, verbal communication (which was necessary for a healthy, functional relationship), "but his students have proven, at the end of every year, to come out for the better in both their intellectual capacity and their maturity level, and if that isn't enough to prove that he is a good teacher and a good man then I don't know what is."

John could only sputter in outrage.

 

"Now, son..." he continued a little more gently. "When we get back home, I would like it if you wrote an apology letter to Mr. Vantas. I understand if you disagree with him on some things, because not everybody has the same values, but since he is your teacher I think you should try to mend your relationship into something at least more curteous. This may even be a good exercise for you; we can't like everybody we have to work with, unfortunately,  so we just have to learn to tolerate each other and move on. Can you do that for me?"

 _Were you even listening to what I said?!_ John thought in frustration. _Do you even care, or do you just not want to deal with it anymore--to deal with **me**? You know I'm **failing** his class, and getting D's in almost all of my other classes, right? _

_...No, of course you don't._ John leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. _You just want to get back to your interrupted date with that blonde cunt._ _So fuck you, Dad._

"Yeah, whatever." He was relieved to hear that his voice stayed level and cold. He even fought to keep a smile from his face as an idea came into his head, and he turned toward the window to hide it. Mr. Vantas would get his apology letter alright--Rose would just have to be enlisted for the perfect passive-agressive phrasing, and maybe Dave to fine tune the sarcasm or add a few insulting metaphors. Jade would get a laugh out of it.

 

God, he was just glad he had them to talk with when he got home. With his father gone on business trips or dates with Ms. Lalonde all the time...

Well, they usually felt like the only real family he had.


End file.
